


week.

by moroshoki



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Johnny's Jr.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3454883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroshoki/pseuds/moroshoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>on monday they love each other, on sunday they don’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	week.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for underage?? something??? and smoking. i guess.  
> also i hope you find this as confusing as i do. got the idea (somehow) from the manga titled seven days though i somehow turned it around in what seems to be a pointless bunch of words put together.

**monday**.

it really is something fleeting, kishi thinks. if his eyes hadn’t decided to wander through the room at that exact time, in that exact direction, he would definitely be missing this. he’s sitting on a rather uncomfortable sofa in the changing room that has been assigned to them, scattered things on the floor making it dirty and with a smell he doesn’t even know how to describe. he’s bored and lets out a yawn, his bones hurting from all the practice he had to undertake last week in order to remember all the songs he’d perform in an hour and be forgotten later, then directing his gaze towards the chair in the right corner of the room.

aran is sitting there, and by a mere millisecond their eyes meet. it shouldn’t be something weird, they’re all waiting and it’s quite usual for the eyes to focus on different things in their visual field. but it isn’t the fact that fleetingly their gazes meet, it’s about how that feels. there aren’t butterflies in his stomach. his cheeks don’t blush. his heart just flinches, and hurts. it hurts enough to make kishi uncomfortably good. the way aran is looking at him is nowhere near the way anyone has looked at him ever, and while that feeling makes him somewhat scared, something in his guts tells him he just shouldn’t be.

it isn’t anything describable. aran just looks expressionless as always, his eyebrows slightly frowning in something that isn’t dislike nor anger, but his eyes tell much more than that. kishi feels full inside, shivers running down his spine and an incredible urge to stand up and face him. it doesn’t disappear when aran looks away just a moment later, and acts like nothing has happened. because it certainly looks like it hasn’t, not to anyone in the same room they’re quietly waiting in, but kishi knows it’s not the same way for both of them.

aran sighs. he uses his arms as support on the armrests of the chair he’s sitting on and quietly stands up, only to leave the room without anyone noticing a moment later. everyone is distracted while paying attention to jinguji who’s telling jokes kishi isn’t even listening to, so he finally decides to give up, following his urge and actually standing up, directing himself towards the direction in which aran has disappeared.

whether aran is slow in regards of walking or he actually wants kishi to know where he’s heading to, that is something kishi doesn’t even want to know. he watches aran’s back as it disappears while turning left down the corridor and it isn’t that hard to suppose where is he going after that – the stairs that lead to the rooftop are at the end. kishi follows him, his feet moving on its own with this huge desire inside him still left undescribed. he stares at his hands as he walks, his fingers slowly forming into fists only to spread again moments later, and he can feel the blood in his veins stronger than ever before.

his lips press against each other forming a straight line as he opens the door to the rooftop, the cold hair hitting his face with strength, breath visibly white as it leaves his mouth. he doesn’t even have to look for aran – he is supporting his back on the wall next to the door and his gaze lifts upwards in something that pretends to be surprise and confusion, getting locked to kishi’s again. kishi thinks he sees something close to a grin.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, his hands casually holding a cigarette box, taking one out of it and lifting it up towards his lips. “it’s cold.”

his last words sound somehow muffled, the cigarette making it impossible for him to speak properly, and he lights it up with a lighter he later saves back in his pocket. the air leaving his mouth is even more white than what kishi’s had been before.

“i don’t care,” kishi says, going towards aran. he stops right next to him, supporting himself as well on the wall and looking at the sky. there aren’t a lot of stars. maybe it’s just too cloudy.

“you want one?” aran’s gaze lifts up again, meeting with kishi’s eyes for a moment. he has an arm raised, a cigarette in his hand, and kishi shakes his head.

“aren’t you worried someone will come in and see you?” kishi asks, his voice barely heard. “i even could go downstairs right now and get you fired.”

“but you won’t,” aran says, as a matter of fact. kishi can’t deny that.

they just stay that way, both his bodies against the wall, aran’s left arm almost touching kishi’s right one but never close enough. it’s really cold and kishi actually cares, his body moving weirdly trying to hide he’d rather have more layers on. he doesn’t even know why, but he feels himself waiting for something, unable to go inside and leave aran on his own. what, he doesn’t know. he feels he doesn’t even want to know.

as aran’s breath turns the level of white kishi’s breath is, he throws the now consumed cigarette to the floor and he separates himself from the wall. the expression on his face remains unchanged, kishi being unable to determine just what his thoughts are, not even when the younger boy sighs and passes right in front of him going towards the door.

following his instincts, kishi reaches for the hem of his shirt. he expects aran to turn to him, a confused look on his face, asking for the reason of his weird behaviour and telling him they should hurry inside. he expects aran to smile a little, maybe, warning kishi not to get a cold. he doesn’t expect aran to look at him the way he did before, inside the room, where they should actually be before practice starts. but he does.

it’s the same as before. it only lasts a millisecond, it’s something fleeting, but it’s enough to leave kishi breathless. the moment kishi feels his grip on aran’s shirt loosen, the other boy is pinning him against the wall and kissing him vigorously.

the taste of smoke hits him, aran parting his lips with his tongue, and while he should find it disgusting he doesn’t. kishi isn’t aware enough of what’s happening to react. he just feels how aran’s hands move up to his cheeks and hold him tight, crushing him against the wall with his weight – kishi’s back hurts but he doesn’t even have room to complain. closing his eyes tight he returns the kiss with even more force than aran, grabbing his shirt with his hands and pulling him even closer, getting as much aran as he can as if it’s the last time they will see each other. it feels like they spend hours like this, kissing each other. aran removes his hands from kishi’s cheeks and grabs his hair, making him let out a moan that gets captured in the younger’s lips.

needing air, aran lets his lips slowly leave kishi’s, the cold from the air quickly returning to his skin. their breath is now the same colour, being one, and kishi lets both his hands fall to his sides.

“we should really get back inside,” aran says with his forehead still touching kishi’s, and as fast as it started it’s already gone. aran’s body leaves him and disappears through the door, which closes with a loud sound that makes him close his eyes.

kishi shivers. the mobile phone in his pocket buzzes and he doesn’t even have to check to know it’s miyachika asking him about his whereabouts.

he guesses aran is right. he shouldn’t catch a cold. so stepping on aran’s now devastated cigarette, he heads inside.

 

 

 **tuesday**.

kishi is lying in bed when there’s a sound coming from his mobile phone. his day at school had been tiring, three exams in a row leaving him exhausted, and the last thing he wanted to do once he got home was being productive. facing the wall, he stretches to be able to get the phone on the nightstand and brings it close to his face.

there’s one line message that can be read even before unlocking the phone. it’s only a sticker, some man in black and white saying ‘hello’, and while it would have been normal some days before, kishi feels uneasy. the sender reads ‘aran’, as simple as that – no hearts and no stars and no emoticons. he hesitates before opening it, and then hesitates even more before deciding to answer, but he guesses what happened yesterday should actually be discussed.

“’sup,” kishi sends, deciding it’s better not to include any sticker that would reveal his nervousness. he hasn’t felt like this at school, he didn’t even feel weird when he got home yesterday – yet now that aran was talking to him, was trying to get his attention, all the feelings came back and hit him in the guts.

“tired from school?”, aran texts back, a cute sad sticker following it. kishi finds himself smiling and turns so it’s his back what faces the wall now.

“mhm,” kishi answers, “i decided to not do anything today.”

“then mind if i come over?” aran’s message comes quickly after kishi’s, surprising him. sure, they are friends. they’ve done dramas together. to be honest, their relationship has always been on good terms but nothing’s ever been the way it is now. it isn’t something that people already assume they do, anyway. while it’s normal for jinguji and iwahashi to spend weeks over each other’s houses, their relationship isn’t like that.

kishi, though, finds himself answering “sure.”

it doesn’t take long for aran to come. kishi’s still in his room, a strange feeling inside of him quite similar to the one he felt when their gazes locked last night. he can hear him talking to his mother, being nice, being polite. steps follow after and in a few seconds his door is opening, aran’s slight smile appearing through it.

“hi,” aran says, closing the door after him. “your mother said he’s going to buy some stuff, will come back later at nine.”

kishi makes a sound with his closed mouth to show he understood. he feels like a teenage girl in love in front of the most popular guy in school, but maybe that’s quite close to how things are. kishi doesn’t like this. he doesn’t like feeling awkward in front of one of his best friends and slowly lifts his gaze only to find aran looking back at him, the grin no longer there.

“is something bothering you?” aran says, getting closer to kishi and sitting next to him on bed. “i’m sorry everything’s quite sudden. i just wanted to see you.”

and as he says that, kishi takes him by the arm and tugs him so they’re both lying on bed, aran on top. his hair falls before his eyes, making it difficult to kishi to see which kind of look he’s giving him right now, but he feels at ease when a smile forms in his face.

“i see you somehow felt the same way.”

at aran’s words, kishi puts his hand on his nape and pulls him closer, clashing their mouths together. the kiss isn’t as hungry as last night’s, there isn’t the same urgency and the feeling that what they’re doing is wrong. it feels right, so right, and kishi just stops thinking. aran is quite responsive, following kishi’s movements and letting him lead this time, separating every once in a while to get air with a knowing smile on his face.

that would have pissed kishi off in a different situation, but the least thing he wants to do now is stop. kishi’s hand leaves aran’s nape, falling towards hip while mapping his back and every muscle that shifts as aran’s body moves against his. everything is silent and their breathless moans are the only thing that fill the room, getting even louder when aran decides to stick his hands under kishi’s shirt.

“want to take yours off?” says aran, getting up and taking off his own shirt, staring at kishi. he quickly nods and throws his football shirt on the floor, his eyes never leaving aran’s torso as he returns to kishi’s mouth and skin to skin just proves to be too much.

“the stuff is on my nighstand,” kishi says between breaths, pointing at it with a movement of his head. it’s aran’s turn to nod, and kishi just turns his head back on the pillow as defeat.

when his mother comes back and calls them for dinner, kishi somehow manages to text her they’ll be coming down later, aran too busy going down on other things. kishi sets the mobile phone aside, basically throwing it to the other side of the bed, and grabs the younger’s hair strongly. aran doesn’t taste like smoke on tuesday.

 

 

 **wednesday**.

the room smells like sweat. the music is playing loud, and the voices of tens of teenage boys are heard between the screams of their dance teacher. you don’t have enough strength, you don’t have to smile too much, you can’t even remember the steps. the boys just nod diligently and try to fix their mistakes, instead of wondering if they were actually there in the first place.

kishi is there too. he had a hard day at school, and while he would usually be tired and complaining he had to go to work later, he’s actually really relieved he has something he can focus on instead. the sweat is slowly falling down his nose and it’s annoying, he thinks. he tries to make the drops fall with a quick shake of his head, but as he does, something makes him stop.

aran is standing in front of him, both of his hands on the sides of kishi’s head, keeping him still.

“what do you want?” kishi says after a while, aran still staring at him standing right in front.

“nothing,” aran casually says, shrugging, “can’t i even admire your face without you getting annoyed?”

kishi scoffs, his eyes falling on the floor. “you’re just so difficult to understand sometimes.”

before kishi manages to properly finish his sentence, he feels something wet on his lips. the moment he tries to react, though, it’s gone. his gaze lifts up only to see aran looking at him with a smile he can’t quite decipher, kishi’s cheeks suddenly blushing as he pushes him. aran just laughs.

“what are you doing?” kishi whispers hurriedly, checking the room to see if anyone has noticed. it seems all the juniors were too worried practicing on their own or receiving the teacher’s advice, so he sighs in what he hopes is relief. “you can’t just do as you plea---”

“hey, kishi,” yasui suddenly says next to him, keigo quickly following behind, “what’s with your blushed cheeks? were you thinking about your princess? or maybe your knight in shining armor?”

they all laugh, obviously taking it as a joke, and kishi just smiles long enough so yasui and keigo get distracted with other things. he decides to lift his gaze again to face aran and try to get something clear out of this, something clear about what’s happening and what their feelings actually stand for.

but as he opens his mouth, he realises aran is gone. instead of trying to find him in the room, wandering, his eyes directly shut. the sweat makes them ache.

 

 

 **thursday**.

his back collides against the wall, the loud thud not loud enough to show how kishi feels. he opens his mouth but nothing comes out. when the source from the pain you feel is unknown, finding a way to cure it is even harder. he has heard that in a film.

his left side hits something, maybe a broom, maybe not, and it falls on the floor. he told himself he wouldn’t be in this situation again, but as he throws his head to the side, giving more space for aran to get to his neck, “fuck everything” escapes his lips.

“hm?” aran asks, his mouth too busy licking every centimetre of kishi’s skin to be able to articulate proper words. kishi tries to cover his mouth in order to lower his moans, “nothing.”

aran doesn’t even ask again, mapping kishi’s body with his hands and pinning him to the wall even harder. they’re in what seems to be the room where they store all the cleaning utensils in the building, though kishi isn’t too sure about the way they’ve ended up here. he just remembers getting out of the rehearsing room to get some water, and whatever happened next is still too confusing. he was walking down the corridor and someone pushed him into a dark room as he attacked his mouth. it’s not like it matters anyway.

“they won’t even search for us, there’s no need to hurry and go back,” aran says, separating from kishi’s mouth and directing his hands towards his shirt. he slowly unbuttons it and kishi gulps. at the sound, aran stops and throws his shirt on the floor, smiling and cupping kishi’s face with his hands. “you look so cute like this.”

kishi closes his eyes and they kiss, slowly this time. aran smiles against his lips and he somehow feels... good, warm, hopeful. it’s still confusing, it’s still messy but kishi thinks they will sort it out, maybe not now but someday. he is content with what’s happening somehow, the overall idea of aran wanting him and liking him, so he’s willing to try and understand what inside the younger’s head. aran doesn’t seem too interested in making it easy for him, though.

as they kiss even more, tasting each other and kishi getting even more used to the other boy’s presence, aran starts to speed up again and his kisses become more vigorous. it makes kishi a little bit uncomfortable, the pressure. aran moves to his neck again as he starts taking kishi’s shirt off as well, succeeding and pressing their bodies together.

“i love you...” aran’s words souns muffled against kishi’s neck, he wonders if that was what makes them a little hollow to the older boy as well. he keeps repeating them against his skin, over and over like a spell. “i love you, i love you...”

as aran’s hand gets to kishi’s pants, though, he panics. “aran,” kishi manages to say, his hand going up to cover his own eyes, “aran listen.”

but he doesn’t, speeding even more instead. his movements become more urgent and kishi can’t take it anymore, the feelings in his head overwhelming him. he suddenly pushes aran, only to have him staring at him in surprise. kishi looks down and tries to breathe, gritting his teeth.

“jesus christ aran, i told you to stop.” aran looks at him, confused as ever. he lets both his hands fall to his sides, and opens his mouth to say something to kishi, but the words die at his mouth. kishi can’t see the guilt in his eyes.

with his heart still racing, kishi pushes past aran and disappears. no one asks anything when aran throws the shirt to kishi once they’re both in the rehearsing room again.

 

 

 **friday**.

it’s cold outside. kishi told his mother he would go over to miyachika’s house tonight, they were meeting with some more juniors on saturday and he invited him over just like the old times. they had the best plan two teenage boys could ever have – food and films. nevertheless, he found himself messaging his friend and telling him he couldn’t make it, his feet taking him to where he is now.

it’s a nice house, the graveyard is nicely being taken care of as it shows its beautiful forms even in the dim light, the grass decorated by colourful flowers – and aran’s blinds still up. he sees the light from outside.

kishi actually doesn’t really know what he’s doing. he doesn’t even know what’s his purpose, or what does he intend to do after this. he just felt like he had to come, his body talked for him, and he is willing to do anything that won’t get him in prison the morning after – he is young, for fuck’s sake.

he finally gathers his courage up and rings the doorbell, a sound he can’t even hear probably resounding in the house. he hears aran shouting, probably telling his mother he’ll check who is (unreasonably) at their doorstep at 10 pm. the light from the window gets even clearer as aran holds the curtain to de side, opening the window and peering with his head outside. his gaze is as confusing as ever – though kishi feels like the strength from monday is slowly starting to fade. in order for some things to stay the same, some need to change.

“kishi?” aran asks, his hands now playing with the hem of his pyjama, restless probably because of how cold it is. “what are you doing here? miyachika told me you were staying over at his house.”

it doesn’t surprise kishi, the fact miyachika told him. what surprises him is the fact aran asked. “i just wanted to talk to you,” kishi says, his breath slowly becoming whiter.

“mhm,” aran just hums, wrinkling his nose, looking like kishi was just telling him about the film he watched the other day. “go on.”

kishi didn’t even come expecting aran to invite him to his room, so he just takes a deep breath and stays where he is, looking up. he grits his teeth so his voice comes out clear, but that turns out to be somehow difficult. he can feel his heartbeat in his neck.

“i suck at talking, and you know that, so don’t expect me to poetize what should be said straight,” kishi starts, his breaths becoming even more irregular. “look, i--- i just don’t even know anymore. what do you want from me, what do i want from you. what are we or what we never started being.”

aran just stares, and says nothing. his eyes are directly fixed in kishi’s, burning, the feeling definitely different from the first day – but kishi feels as uneasy as ever. he feels like he’s talking to a doll, someone who tries to listen but never understands, and the fact he doesn’t know if he wants aran to actually understand is quite worrying.

“what i know,” kishi continues, “is what i don’t want to be. i don’t want to be trying to sort out what’s in your head all the time, i don’t want to feel like i am in love with you everytime you touch me only to disappear moments later. i don’t want our relationship – whatever it may be – to be like a weekly diet you always repeat until you’re just too tired and decide to give up. i am afraid and confused and--- fuck you, aran. fuck you. for fucking everything up and for kissing me and making me feel loved.”

kishi’s words don’t follow a thread, they’re confusing just like everything is. his head is full of misconceptions and things he’d rather not notice, and his words just don’t seem to come out properly. he breathes deeply, both his arms on his sides, his hands turned into fists.

“love,” aran starts, almost inaudible, “do you love me?”

and his question takes kishi unprepared, finding himself opening his mouth only to let out a soft “i don’t know.”

“... you?” kishi urges to add, watching every muscle of aran’s face and noting no difference or movement.

“i don’t know neither.”

he smiles. aran smiles and, as he separates himself a little from the outside and lets all his body get inside the house, he closes the window without further notice. and, still smiling, he lowers the blinds.

kishi blinks twice and looks at his watch, realising it’s not even midnight. he lets his body fall on the floor and supports his back with a wall, which surprisingly is the thing that hurts him the most that night. he laughs a little and, putting his head on his knees, he closes his eyes.

if at 5 am he comes back home freezing and looking like shit, he’ll tell his mother he forgot to bring his blanket and that he’s just coming to get some stuff. it’s not like kishi needs any warmth anyway.

 

 

 **saturday**.

as planned, they all meet in front of their favourite ice cream shop. because eating ice cream when it’s cold is reassuring, it feels good – just like pouring rubbing alcohol on your wounds. kishi tells himself all his wounds are already cured, though. there weren’t any wounds to start with.

miyachika comes late, and he blames it on kishi not being there to wake him up. he asks about what happened, “why didn’t you come”, but kishi just shrugs. the others don’t really seem to care, genki too busy telling jinguji his hair looks perfect a thousand times and aran just--- being on his own. he doesn’t even direct his eyes towards kishi. he just smiles and laughs at some jokes the others make, as in commitment. it doesn’t look like the aran they all know, but again kishi doesn’t even know if he knows the boy anymore. it’s not like the others seem to care, so he just shrugs it off.

before getting in the shop, they just kill some time outside. they talk about everything and nothing at all at the same time, going from their grades to how the last one piece episode just shocked them all. they all seem to be immerged in the conversations, everything looks like nothing actually happened, and kishi thinks he should feel a little bit bothered by it. but he doesn’t.

aran is touchy with everyone – everyone but him. and this isn’t how things used to be, but kishi supposes things take their time. kishi is sure he won’t forget what happened, but at least he’s sure he’s not going to let it affect their group. and like this, getting up and making them all look at him, he gestures towards the shop and gets in.

kishi gets the vanilla ice cream, making the others laugh at him thanks to his obvious choice. he doesn’t think he’d like to risk anything anymore.

when aran gets the same ice cream, though, no one notices.

 

 

 **sunday**.

they’re called to an extra practice. it’s sunday and the last thing kishi wants to do is get up early to go to a room full of sweaty boys dancing to songs that aren’t even their own. sure, he somehow enjoys it. and he likes being with friends. but going to the karaoke could make up for it.

still, sexy zone concerts are coming up soon and they can’t waste any minute of their time. with choreographies being changed every once in a while, they can’t rest on sundays. or that’s what it seems. when kishi enters the room and looks at all the other juniors with nothing but tiredness in their faces, he feels understood.

aran is there, too. he’s casually resting against the wall, drinking some water and drying his sweat with his usual towel. at the sound of the door, he looks up at kishi and gently smiles. kishi smiles back.

their gazes lock and they stay like this for what seems to be hours, but they both know it’s only mere milliseconds. it is something fleeting, their eyes quickly heading to the ground – but it’s there. kishi doesn’t feel anything in his stomach, though, and judging from aran’s sudden disinterest he doesn’t either. it feels safer this way.

they spend hours practicing like usual, sweating and being too occupied to spend their time thinking in other stuff that isn’t the music and one, two, three, four, five... but finally, at late afternoon, the dance teacher calls it a day. the juniors sigh and let out tiredness signs, as they head for the shower or they go out to get home as soon as possible.

kishi is in the last group. he doesn’t live too far away, and even if he did he wouldn’t want to spend more time there. he doesn’t have anyone to talk to right now, anyway. he gets all his stuff and tries to look as decent as possible before heading out, towel and bag still in his hand. he doesn’t notice he’s not the only one in the room until he hears a voice.

“good job today,” as kishi turns his head, he can see aran holding the door before disappearing through it. “you did your best.”

the door slams and kishi finds himself unable to mutter a word. he doesn’t know if he’d have done it, if aran had given him the time to actually do so.

sighing, he takes all the stuff that is still on the chair and disappears through the same door. aran isn’t in the corridor. it’s not like he is looking.

when he gets home, he decides to rest. he has some exams next week, and probably more problems and issues he’s not really willing to deal with, but right now he doesn’t want to think about it. his muscles hurt and his head hurts even more, making him stretch on bed the moment he enters his room’s door.

he yawns, putting his mobile phone aside full of messages he isn’t interested in checking before going to sleep. tucking himself inside the covers of his bed, he stretches towards his nightstand in order to reach his calendar. it’s something his mother gives to him whenever a year starts, telling him things should always be organized. clear. your homework, your tasks, your feelings. he takes a pen and feels a shiver running down his spine.

all of the days are crossed. monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday. with lines as straight as he can, he crosses the only word that’s left in the last line of that month’s page. the pen is thick, so the word ‘sunday’ can’t even be seen anymore. the taste of cigarette suddenly comes to his mouth.


End file.
